Chapter 41 #2
“I’m—” She gasped, fingers clutching at his wrist—not to stop him, but to hold onto something solid as she spiralled.
Kaelen’s breath was hot against her neck, fingers moving in steady, shallow strokes, thumb teasing her with featherlight circles.
“That’s it, love,” he coaxed. “Let go.”
Alarik’s lips found hers then, claiming her in a kiss that stole what little air she had left. It was tender, controlled—but beneath it, she felt the hunger, the barely restrained want.
Between them, her body coiled tighter. Her toes curled, burning hot. Pleasure built, cresting with the push and pull of Kaelen’s fingers until . . .
Her world shattered.
A harsh cry tore from her lips as she came apart in their arms, her body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed through her. Kaelen groaned, his fingers never still, working her through it, prolonging the sensation until she was sobbing, whimpering against Alarik’s mouth.
He murmured against her lips, “Beautiful.”
Kaelen pressed a lingering kiss to her shoulder, voice thick with satisfaction. “We could do this all morning, princess.” His fingers trailed lazily over her inner thigh, teasing, unhurried.
She exhaled shakily, warmth settling deep beneath her skin. Pleasure still hummed through her, lingering in the aftershocks, in the way her body remained attuned to every touch.
She’d never felt this before—never imagined it could feel like this. Not just the pleasure, but the intimacy, the sheer rightness of it.
Kaelen huffed a quiet laugh, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “A pleasant way to wake up in the morning, isn’t it? ”
Alarik hummed in quiet agreement, his fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns down her arm. “Shame we can’t stay in bed all day.”
Reiya closed her eyes and smiled, sinking into the quiet peace between them. Morning had come. Already, she could hear the camp beginning to wake—the murmur of voices, the distant clang of pots, the low nickering of horses.
But, for just a little longer, she let herself stay right where she was.
T hey emerged from their tent shortly after dawn, the cool air tinged with desert dust and the promise of a long ride ahead.
Alarik estimated three turns of the sand clock before they reached Mezerin’s gates.
Kaelen had made a remarkable recovery after the healer’s elixir purged the sandshrike venom from his system, but the midday heat remained a cruel beast. They’d agreed to take it easy.
They made their way to the camp’s edge, where Captain Marzius oversaw the dismantling of their tents and prepared the horses. He was already deep in his work, but at their approach, his lips quirked into the faintest of smiles—enough to catch Reiya’s attention.
She’d only just met him, but she recognized the quiet strength in the way he carried himself. A man of action, not idle words. He offered no unnecessary chatter, yet behind his every move was a sense of quiet care. He stayed close, ensured their comfort, and offered guidance when needed.
“The Tazahrin looks much improved,” the captain observed.
Kaelen grinned. “Your foresight in bringing a healer came in handy, Marzius.”
The captain nodded, his lips curling slightly at the praise. “I took the liberty of bringing someone else to see you.” There was dry amusement in his tone. “Hoping the sight of him will speed your recovery.”
Reiya arched a brow, glancing at Alarik in silent question.
Marzius didn’t leave them guessing long.
He turned, nodding toward the camp’s edge where a soldier led a magnificent black stallion toward them, its glossy coat shimmering in the early light.
A white star gleamed like limyerite crystal on its forehead .
Kaelen froze for a second. Then, a smile split his face—wide, unrestrained—the kind of joy Reiya hadn’t seen in days.
“Shahram,” he called.
The stallion let out a low, impatient snort, ears pricking forward at the sound of his name. He tossed his head, waves of his glossy mane catching the sunlight as if demanding attention.
Kaelen didn’t hesitate. He strode forward and reached out a hand. Shahram stomped a hoof, as if scolding his rider for his absence, but the moment Kaelen touched his nose, the stallion huffed and nudged into his palm—hard enough to nearly knock him back.
He chuckled, pressing his forehead briefly against the horse’s.
“I missed you too, old friend,” he murmured.
Reiya smiled, something soft unfurling in her chest. She’d seen Kaelen revel in victory, had seen him tease and charm with ease, but this quiet, heartfelt moment between warrior and steed felt different. More honest.
“He refused to let anyone mount him during your absence,” Marzius said, a flicker of amusement in his voice. “The stablemasters let him run daily in the paddock, but he hasn’t ventured into the desert since you left. I suspect he’s itching for a good ride.”
Kaelen ran a hand down the stallion’s strong neck. “Caused everyone trouble, didn’t you? I’d expected nothing less of you, old boy.”
Marzius turned to Alarik. “I brought Ruhasul as well for you.” He nodded toward a soldier leading a tall, muscular stallion forward. Reiya eyed the horse—a striking dun with a dark mane and tail.
If Shahram was onyx, Ruhasul was topaz.
Alarik’s expression softened as the horse came to a stop before him.
She watched him resting his palm against the stallion’s strong neck.
Ruhasul barely moved, his trust in his rider absolute.
The horse let out a deep, steady breath, ears flicking forward as he nudged Alarik’s shoulder.
There was no theatrics, no rearing or impatience like Shahram—just a quiet, wordless understanding.
With a small amusement, she realized how much the horses reflected their masters.
“I also brought an extra mount for you, Princess,” Marzius offered .
She shook her head, already reaching for her horse’s reins. “Thank you, Captain, but Ember has been with me from the start. I’ll continue with her.”
Marzius nodded, seemingly unsurprised.
Kaelen swung onto Shahram’s back with ease, despite his recent injuries. The stallion barely shifted, already attuned to him. Exhaling slowly, he ran a steadying hand over the horse’s flank.
“Nowhere I’d rather be than on this saddle,” he mused, satisfaction curling at his lips.
Reiya arched a brow. “Nowhere?”
Kaelen grinned down at her, winking. “Well, almost nowhere.”
She huffed a laugh as she mounted Ember, settling into the familiar rhythm of the mare’s movements. Alarik was already astride Ruhasul, the stallion standing composed, waiting for his rider’s command.
Marzius surveyed them with a keen eye before giving a short nod. “We should set out. The Lady Consort and Princess Thalina are expecting you most ardently.”
As they urged their horses forward, Reiya’s gaze drifted to Kaelen. The lightness in his expression, the ease in his posture—it was good to see. The venom had weakened him for a time, but it seemed nothing could keep Prince Kaelendrin from the saddle for long.
And from the way Shahram carried him, the stallion had never doubted his return.